Like Father Like Son
by Dizzydodo
Summary: Malik teaches Darim a few tricks; a pity the boy is as arrogant as his father. Just a little ficlet that wouldn't leave me alone.


Malik frowned at the child that had dogged his every footstep, mimicking his motions exactly as he flowed through a basic routine, slightly modified for his convenience. At this hour of the day Darim would normally be at his studies, which beggared the question of why he was out here bothering him instead.

Curious despite himself, Malik paused and turned to address a question to his shadow, "What are you doing, Darim?"

Darim froze mid-step and smiled widely at his surly uncle. "I'm practicing with you, uncle Malik."

Malik bit back the urge to inform Darim that he was not the boy's uncle and was thankful for it. Perhaps if he ignored the child, it would go away. He resumed his routine only to be brought to a forcible halt when Darim trod on the heel of his boot; stifling a sigh he turned to look down at the child again.

Thinking on it, perhaps it was not such a bad thing, this desire to learn from him. There were worse teachers; if he turned the boy away perhaps he would ask his father to teach him. Masyaf did not need one novice training another in the ways of arrogance and stubbornness; Malik shuddered at the thought. Yes, better to permit him to linger here and learn from his betters rather than chance him falling under the wrong influence.

"Your stance is off-center", Malik nudged his feet a little farther apart, angling his shoulders more forward. "You must bend your knees more; if you keep them so stiff, someone will knock them from under you."

Darim crouched to the ground and Malik sighed, of course the child would be obtuse. All the pride of his father, none of the sense of his mother, and just where was she when he needed her most?

"Stand up, you cannot run through your courses bent over like that; bend them _slightly_." Darim stood and bent his knees to copy Malik's stance, he could just catch his uncle's smile as he turned about and began his routine again, keeping a sharp eye on his smallest admirer lest he commit any grave mistakes. Darim's movement was limited by his small stature, and he stumbled occasionally, but overall he was crisp and clean. There was potential here.

Darim grinned when Malik told him so, "Someday I will be like my Father."

Malik stifled a groan, "For the love of all that is right and good in the world, do not say that. Never say that."

Darim frowned, "My father is the greatest assassin that ever lived, or at least he will be until I grow up." Sins of the father, indeed. The boy was too proud by half.

Malik made an honest effort not to argue with the child, but there was something in that face that was so like the novice that…

"Your father is thoughtless and proud, characteristic of the novice that he still is in mind, regardless of what rank he claims in fact"

Darim scowled, "Take it back!"

"I will if you can do this routine alone, with no prompting from me."

With a smirk, Darim settled into his newly learned combat stance, gliding through the motions with an occasional pause whenever he forgot the next step; his face was focused and intent and Malik was once again minded of Altair when he had taken on some task that should be beyond his abilities.

In the privacy of his own mind, Malik admitted that it might not be fair to call him a novice any longer; he had a disconcerting habit of succeeding where everyone else had failed. It was time his son assumed his old title.

The boy misplaced a step here or there, glancing quickly at his erstwhile instructor to see if it had been noted; Malik pretended not to see; there was no harm in allowing the boy his pride for now. And if he were entirely honest with himself he was far too fond of the child to try winning the argument. Sons should admire their fathers. Even if their fathers were thoughtless novices.

Their mutual practice was interrupted by Maria's voice calling across the courtyard. "Found at last, scamp. Now is the time to beg for mercy."

Maria trotted forward, smiling openly as she vaulted the practice yard fence, looking back and forth between Darim and Malik. "Unless Malik needs you for something?"

"I was only showing the boy a few tricks," he gestured to Darim behind his back and Darim began the routine again for his mother's benefit.

Maria raised a brow, "How was he?"

Malik glowered, "I very much fear the boy is his father's son."

Maria laughed ruefully, "Heaven and all the angels forbid. One Altair is quite enough." They shared a commiserating smile before turning back to a dusty, panting Darim. Eagerly hopping from foot to foot like an over-excited puppy. _Novice._

Maria beamed as though he had brought her the head of a dragon on his shield, "Well done, perhaps we should go and show your father." Darim bounded forward to seize her hand in his, pulling her forward as he tried to race to his father's study, held back by his laughing mother.

"Altair would like to see you in his study when you are through here, Malik. It's nothing too important, I think." Finally she allowed herself to be led away by a chattering Darim.

Malik watched as the boy departed hand in hand with Maria, so busy regaling her with tales of his fighting prowess he didn't notice the root in his path until he stumbled over it, saved from the fall only by his mother, who reached out quickly to snag the cloth of his shirt.

Malik chuckled dryly, _Novice._


End file.
